


the music of bells

by booksandfandoms



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunchback of Notre Dame (1996) Fusion, Angst, Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Paris | Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris, M/M, but using them in context of the bad people, slowburn, the hunchback au nobody asked for, trying not to use slurs for romani people
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-04-23 03:29:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19142647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/booksandfandoms/pseuds/booksandfandoms
Summary: Takashi, disfigured at birth, lives out his life in the dark bell tower of the cathedral. Longing to go outside, his eye catches Keith, a beautiful Romani man in silks and scarves. On the day of the Feast of Fools, he ventures out, hoping to get so much as a glance of this man. Instead, he gets tangled up with a wolf, a knight, and all of Paris.





	1. The Bells of Notre Dame

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been working on my story writing for a while. Having no ideas about my own story, I guess I should start with what I do know. So here we go, I guess.

As the sun rose over the city of Paris, a large cathedral is washed in golden light. Stained glass windows catch the sunlight, and flash beautiful shades of red, blue, green, and yellow. They tell the story of defenders of the city. The paladins, later named saints, kept intruders out of Paris. Legend has it, they still do. Takashi awakes to the sunlight softly glowing in his loft. His day has begun. Shiro, as his master calls him, begins with a subtle stretch before limping over to the bells. Born with only one arm, covered with scars from beatings, and a lame leg left him unable to find any comfort in the common man. Shiro was just not like everyone else. As his master said, the people of Paris would just laugh at him, torment him for who he was. Master was most generous, letting Shiro live in his church's bell tower. His only task was to ring the bells at the right times. That came easily for Shiro; he loved the bells, and had even named them. Hunk, Pidge, Allura, Coran, and Romelle. Each one corresponded to one of the paladins of Paris. The legends people spoke of were true. His saints kept the city running and in order with their chimes.

 

Even with one arm, ringing the bells came with a practiced ease to Takashi. His favorite part of the day was getting to hear them sing their sweet tune to him. What little hearing he had left was left only for the bells. Immediately, the city of Paris burst to life. Businesses began opening, goods began selling, and people began working. Before his master comes up with breakfast, Shiro perches on his window and waits. Without fail, his beauty always come when he calls. Of all the people he watches, Shiro loves this man the most. A Romani clad totally in gauzy fabrics and shiny silks. With a wolf by his side, be performs with his tambourine for gold. Something about his movements as he danced totally captured Shiro's attention. Every time he found himself staring for too long, he mentally chided himself. Master would never approve. Master says gypsies are vermin, and must be eradicated from Paris. If all Romani were like this man, Shiro wasn't sure why his master had such hatred in his heart for them. Surely his love had never done anything bad. How could he have, when he sings so beautifully? The Lord would never gift a sinner with such an angelic voice.

 

Like clockwork, Shiro's master began the ascend towards him. Shiro scrambled away from the window, lest master find out about the man. As he sits down next to Allura, his favorite bell, the trap door opens, and his master climbs up into Shiro's loft at the top of the cathedral. A plate of bread and a Bible sit in his hands. Shiro knows that, had he been more careful and less excited to ring the bells, he wouldn't be punished for ringing them too early. Had he been good, there would be a treat of strawberries. Disappointment and shame blossom in Shiro’s chest as his master pulls up a bench and small table to eat upon. 

 

“Shiro, do you know what story we are going to hear today?”

 

Shiro shakes his head. Secretly, he hopes its the story of the paladins. That one has always been his favorite. His master’s smile tells him that his face showed his hope, and he silently averted his gaze. Master may think Shiro is being demanding, or will be disappointed in master of they don’t do that story. Instead, a soft hand gently pushes Shiro’s chin up to meet their eyes. 

 

“Can you tell me the story of the paladins, Shiro?” His master’s eyes showed the love and nurturing nature Shiro had grown to love. So, he dutifully recited the story word for word, adding in a few gestures and sound effects. Halfway through, a din outside the window interrupted Shiro. As Lotor, his master, rose to see what had arisen, his face turned to one of disgust. Shiro also looked out, and saw only a crowd cheering for his beautiful muse.

 

“Gypsy vermin! How dare they deface my holy city with such filth?” 

 

Shiro grew frightened. As much as he respected his master, he still didn’t want anything to happen to this man. The Feast of Fools was coming up, meaning Shiro would get to see the Romanese in their true element, singing and performing for the masses. Shiro just couldn’t wait. Lotor suddenly stormed down the steps towards the bowels of the cathedral, leaving Shiro to his thoughts. He wanted to go outside for the feast so badly. Unsure of what to do, he looked towards the bells for guidance. As if answering his question, the warm sunlight reflected off of the bronze of Allura. Shiro knew what he would do. Grabbing his winter cloak and a sturdy pair of boots, he set down to reach the crowds of Paris.


	2. Topsy Turvy Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro ventures outside for the first time in his life. Chaos ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two updates in one day? I'm on a roll. Expect frequent updates, but for sure not this frequent.

The thing that surprised Shiro the most was the noise. From his window, muted clatters were the only thing to be heard. Now, a cacophony of voices, cheering, and various sounds of celebration were heard. The feast had finally begun. The second thing Shiro noticed were the beautiful colors of the city. Bright banners hung between buildings. Stands and carts had been set up. Puppet shows and games were held for the children, while mystics and performers were supplied for the adults' entertainment. Shiro’s view from the bell tower was fuzzy and distant compared to the sharp, focused view his eyes beheld now. The bustle of bodies made him uneasy, but nobody seemed to notice or care about him. A scary though crept into Shiro’s mind. What if his master had been wrong? What if the outside world really was okay? Before he could dwell on the terrible thoughts anymore, he heard a stampede of cheering and rowdy shouts. The parade had begun, and Shiro was caught directly in the middle of it. 

 

As horses galloped towards him, someone pushed him out of the way of danger. In the process the hood of his cloak revealed his face to his unknowing savior. Why would a person save a monster like him? Looking up to apologize before intending on going straight to his bell tower, he realized that not only was his savior a normal person, it was Shiro’s muse. The mid afternoon sunlight caught on his golden jewelry. This angel was flanked by, of all things, a wolf. The dark black, almost blue, fur gave it an almost supernatural look. Then again, Shiro wouldn’t question the fact that this man could be a tricky sprite, with the way his eyes seemed full of mischief and fun as he danced. His raven hair , save choppy bangs, was pulled back by a multicolored cloth, seemingly hand-woven. Bells decorated his wrists and ankles, like he didn’t need a tambourine; he could just play his own body as he danced. 

 

“Are you okay? That looked a little rattling.” Concern filled the beautiful man’s eyes, at least until Shiro looked up. He knew what everyone’s eyes were drawn to- the ragged scar across the bridge of his nose. That was from a particularly bad beating, Shiro had asked master why men couldn’t love men. Never again had he even entertained questions like that.

 

“Oh. I see. Well, join the contest for the king. Might as well make use of what you’ve got.” 

 

“I still don’t know your name. Mine is Takashi.” Shiro didn’t usually go by that, but he felt this man deserved something more...intimate. Like a secret shared between the two of them. Whenever Lotor used that name, it meant Shiro was in trouble. He would almost always be beaten. But this time, hearing his birth name was almost comforting. 

 

“Keith. Lets go ahead and enjoy the festivities. I bet you’ll win. Then you’ll be the talk of the town for sure!” Panic filled Shiro’s chest. No matter how afraid he was, having Keith grab his hand and begin walking with him was worth any beating. Shiro just couldn’t say no to Keith, not when they had visited within dreams for weeks. Before he knew what was going on, Shiro was being pulled by Keith into a cluster of almost all of the festival-goers. It seemed a man, most likely Romani, was judging men one by one. Each person rejected made the line shorter, and Shiro’s anxieties heighten. Master would not be happy when he got back. Too soon, it seemed to be Shiro’s turn. One look was enough. Suddenly, shouting and cheering ensued. Something was placed on top of his head, and the crowd's roar became deafening. Shiro’s arms were pulled outwards, and ropes bound them. Looking over, Keith was shouting for the people to stop. Before he could wonder what he wanted them to stop doing, pain flared in Shiro’s back. A whip had been brought out, and what was once a joyous celebration was now a public act of humiliation. Each crack of the whip sent his nerves into a frenzy. Looking up, Shiro saw his master in the crowd. Lotor held his gaze, only raising an eyebrow as a directed question. Shiro’s pleas fell upon deaf ears. The only response was a pointed look, as if to say, “What did I say?”

 

Once the crowd tired of the flogging, Shiro was paraded as people threw rotten food and animal waste at him. In all, he staggered back towards the bell tower. Eyes glazed over, head swimming in pain, he fell at the cathedral’s front door, begging for mercy. At this point, death seemed to be the kindest answer. Lotor opened the door, his once fatherly demeanor iced over. Shiro had to be practically carried up to the bell tower, where he spent the night staring out at the city. Master was right. Nothing good came from the outside world. The bell tower was his only sanctuary. Just before he fell into a trance-like state of staring, he noticed Keith sneaking into the cathedral’s front entrance.


	3. Rest and Recreation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m at a summer retreat, so updates may not be as frequent as I hoped. However, I do know where the story is going, and I’m excited to let you guys see it!!!

Of all the years working on the front, Lance liked to believe that he had a sense of dignity and control. To be a soldier, after all, required honor, courage, and bravery. Nothing seemed to phase him. Or so he thought. The life of a soldier, however honorable, was also lonely. No women were allowed to fight, and being around rowdy men all day made the longing for a companion almost unbearable some days. Still, Lance knew his duty was needed, and he was more than happy to perform it. 

Lance liked to think he had it all. He was handsome, charming, and good with his weapon. His claim to fame was, infact, the way his arrows never went astray. It seemed his affections, however, did. On the off chance he did strike it up with a girl, he always woke up to a cold bed. No matter how suave or smooth he was, the girls never stayed. It seemed to be Lance’s curse. He fell in and out of love so easily. 

It seemed his latest catch was probably the least likely to work out. Retired from the front, Lance assumed the position of the royal guard’s captain. It was really a win win situation. He was not forced to endure weeks of travel, terrible rations, or any of the rather unpleasant things that came with his job. So, naturally, his agenda had to fit that of the church. That seemed easy enough, until Keith came around. Lance knew the traveling caravan of Romani was coming around, but had never seen it himself. At least, not until he was posted at the parade during the Feast of Fools. He had expected trouble from the festival, but the enthusiasm was unexpected. Crowds buzzed with word of the performers and games set up in the square. Lance kept hearing a name floating around, like this person was the main attraction of the feast. As long as this performer caused no trouble, Lance didn't seem to find a reason to care or take any notice, really. But oh, how he was wrong. The trouble really began in the mid morning, when an especially enthusiastic crowd began to gather between two alleyways. Not a terribly populated area, but enough that it was still on Lance's radar. Taking a quick jog to investigate and hopefully settle the unruly (and lets be honest, probably drunk) people, his heart seemed to skip a beat. Lance didn't believe in love at first sight, but he knew there was something bigger than him that brought the two together. The set up was really quite simple. A small rug was placed at the feet of a Romani man and his... dog? Wolf? Lance wasn't sure. All he knew was this man was, beautiful. That seemed to be the only word to describe him. He danced in such a fluid manner, he must be made from flames themselves. This man's eyes twinkled with joy, as if he knew what he was doing to Lance and was enjoying every minute. The crowd was murmuring in approval, and the name floated back into the air. Keith. Lance knew two things at this moment. One- the feelings he was having right now were certainly unholy, and two- he really didn't care, especially not when Keith's eyes landed on him and prompted a smirk.

Lance needed some air. This whole situation; from Keith's dancing to his own internal happenings, were getting very out of hand. He quickly settled the crowd, and then went back to his post. The good news was the dancer didn't pass by Lance. The bad news was that Keith didn't need to actually be there for Lance to see him. Images of him in his silks flashed through his mind. With each memory, it seemed that Keith was less human, and more nymph. His impish eyes and dainty frame gave him an ethereal air. lance's heart felt like it was jumping out of his heart. He knew this feeling very well. He was falling in love.


	4. God Help the Outcasts

Keith had lived his entire life on one concept: distance. Don’t get too attached to anyone or anything but your family. He might have taken that a little too literally. The only person keith found he could trust was Cosmo, the wolf pup he had found years ago during his travels. Together, they traveled and performed. Money from patrons was saved up until they had enough to move on to the next place. Keith had very few personal items. What he owned was kept on his person, coins hidden in the folds of his scarves, weapons hidden underneath gauzy pants. 

 

His latest journey brought him to Paris. Keith had fond memories of the city. Their small group of outcasts would walk along the river, or venture between narrow alleys full of vendors and performers. Their de facto leader told them that, as much as they had loved Paris, the Romani people never stayed in one place for very long. Keith was sad, he had really fallen in love with the city. As a young boy, he didn’t really understand why they couldn’t just stay. That same feeling came back to him as he returned years later. No place really felt like home, but Paris came as close to it as possible. The dangerously pitched rooftops seemed to welcome the duo as they found an area to perform. The key was to find a place crowded enough, but not too much so. From what he understood, Keith knew the Romani people were not treated very kindly here. Ever since Minister Lotor assumed power within the church, Keith kept one hand on his knife at all times. The citizens, couldn’t get enough of the Romani performances. Children loved the magic tricks and dazzling costumes; the parents loved the contests, games, and performances.

 

Keith was amazed by the cathedral; so many years of history layered on top of each other. It was a haven of virtue of virtue and faith. The cathedral was the place where the desolate could find food, shelter and kindness. But Keith knew Minister Lotor used this fact to his advantage. He would “offer the needy a second chance at life”. In reality, he used them for free labor and exploited their services. These people would become servants to the church; their payment was the approval of Lotor and God. Keith knew only a limited amount about Christianity, but he did know that charity was the best way into Heaven. He figured Lotor used his “good deeds” as a way through the pearly gates. Keith also figured that Shiro was his biggest project to date. 

 

Everyone favored Lotor, saying he was so brave for taking in such a creature. In reality, Keith found Lotor’s abuse of Shiro sickening, yet there was nothing he could do. So, as he walked, he silently began to pray. He prayed for an old woman he had given his extra scraps of food to. He prayed for the children scrounging in the fountain for coins, and finally he prayed for Shiro. Keith prayed that he could find the strength to stand up to Lotor. 

 

By this point, Keith had come upon the statue of Mary. He was not Christian, but had always felt connected to Mary. They were both outcasts of society, despite having done nothing wrong. Keith didn’t know if there was a god, or whether or not they were listening, but he began to softly sing. He sang for his people, and that they might find a place of acceptance. Once again, he found himself wanting to sing for Shiro. Something about his pure heart had left a remarkable impact on Keith. 

 

As if on cue, the bells began to ring. Up in that bell tower, Shiro was looking out upon the city. Maybe he was even thinking about Keith. A strange flutter arose in his heart, which he quickly pushed down. Keith had experienced affections towards men before, but also knew certain death was the punishment for expression of his devotion. Loving a man such as Shiro, kind as he may be, would be even more frowned upon. Still, that fact didn’t mean he couldn’t think about him. He figured it was time to pay Shiro a visit. 

 

With his mind made up, Keith began exploring the cathedral. The ventured between rows of pews, coves of statues, and halls of silent patrons of prayer. His journey took him in the general direction of the bell tower, trying at all costs to avoid Lotor and his preaching. Would he be caught, Keith would probably have to either work for him, or spend time in jail. He much preferred the third option: sneaking around the cathedral like wisps of smoke. Despite the bells on his costume, he moved silent and sure.


End file.
